#e posts

You and Aaron had been dating a while at this point, about a year roughly. I feel like after Haley, he wouldn’t immediately jump into sex with a new partner. I feel like it would take some time to really let him find his groove in this relationship, adjust to it, and almost… let the dust settle, so to speak.

By this point in your relationship, you two have had sex a handful of times. You guys don’t breed like jackrabbits (we don’t need to mention Aaron’s breeding kink), but he definitely satisfies your needs. Now, don’t get you wrong, sex with Aaron is fucking amazing. Your man is very generous lover; he even has a rule of a two-orgasm minimum. Aaron will not let you leave the bed before he makes you cum a second time, sometimes a third. However, as much as you love Aaron, you have to admit that he falls into a bit of a pattern when it comes to sex.

When you and Aaron are getting hot and heavy, he is always careful about the way he touches you. You’re his baby, so he would never want to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. He is also hyperaware of the fact that he is much bigger than you. I mean, the man is six-two and two-fifty easy. He treats you delicately when he makes love to you, caresses you gently, whispers praises in your ear, and worships every inch of your body like it’s sacred.

You love that Aaron does that for you because it makes you feel beautiful, loved, wanted when he does that. The thing is, he’s this way every time you guys have sex. He is so careful about the way he touches you that it makes you feel like he thinks you can’t handle anything more than that. That is not the case at all.

You love rough sex. Before Aaron, you always made it clear to your partners that they don’t need to be gentle with you in the bedroom, that you prefer it if they weren’t. You lost count of how many times you’ve been spanked, choked, or tied down. And to be honest, you miss the thrill you got from those past experiences. You know that Aaron can’t fix the problem if he doesn’t know there is one, but for some reason, it’s hard to express your kinkier desires to him. He’s different.

So, one random night after a few too many sips of wine, you call Penelope to vent about your current situation. You knew that she would be the best person out of your friends to go to because she’s not afraid to talk about sex. She’s always been very forthcoming with her sexuality. She asks you how you and Aaron are doing, and you tell her that you guys are great, just that you need some advice. You tell her about the conflict that you’re having and ask her what the best way would be to tell Aaron that you want him to rough you up a little bit.

“I just wish that he wouldn’t treat me like I’m made of glass, you know,” you tell her. “I mean, don’t be afraid to slap me and call me cock-hungry whore every once and a while.”

You are so immersed in your conversation with Penelope—which you have on speaker because you were alone and weren’t expecting Aaron back until later—that you didn’t hear Aaron coming home until it was too late. You were in the midst of detailing the things that you would want your boyfriend to do to you, and suddenly, your phone was taken out of your hand. You look up in surprise to see a stony-faced Aaron holding your phone.

“She’ll have to call you back, Garcia,” is all he says before he hangs up.

You give a sheepish smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Okay,” Penelope chirps giddily as she downs the rest of her wine. “Baby Genius! I dare you to…” Her baby blues gleam with mischief as she looks at you. Oh, no. “Make Y/N blush.”

Spencer raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that it?”

The tipsy hacker nods. “That’s it.”

Shrugging a single, nonchalant shoulder, Spencer slides in close to you, enough so that you can feel his presence next to you. Delicate, slender fingers push a lonely strand of hair behind your ear. He leans into you and whispers, “You’re lucky that we’re in front of our friends right now. I’d have you naked and writhing under me if we weren’t.”

You try so hard to conceal the heat radiating off your face and neck, but the hollering from your friends proves that you are not successful.

“Look at that,” Spencer remarks once he’s moved away from you and downs a shot of tequila that he’s poured himself, a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. “You’re blushing.”

“So,” you ask Spencer a couple of hours later once the party has calmed down a little and the two of you have a moment alone. “Were you serious about what you said earlier? During Truth or Dare?”

He tilts his head. “Why, are you interested?”

You chew on your lower lip. “Yeah. Very interested, actually.”

He nods and does not even try to hide his smile. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine’s only five minutes away.”

When you accepted the position for Administrative Liaison for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you definitely had some reservations about what the agents would be like. Most of the jobs that you’ve had were assistant jobs, and it’s safe to say that you had encountered your fair share of asshole bosses along the way. 

That being said, the agents of the BAU were nothing at all like you expected. You walk into the building on your first day, and you are greeted by a taller, slender blonde woman. She reaches her hand out with a warm smile. A smile that says she’s genuinely excited for you to be there. “You must be Y/N. I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” You shake her hand. “But you can call me JJ.”

You return her smile and let go of her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, JJ.”

“Follow me, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of our team.”

You nod, and she leads you through glass double doors and a maze of desks that she calls the bullpen. The two of you go up a small staircase to a conference room with a circular table, and six heads turn when she opens the door. Sitting around the table are a tall, lanky man with brown hair that curls just below his ears, a taller, bald man with biceps that look as big as your head, a brightly-colored blonde woman holding a remote, a dark-haired woman with an air of confidence that could tear apart your entire being before even blinking, an older man that exudes a grandfatherly energy, and… oh. You stop at the last person–a man that looks just a bit older than you with dark hair and eyes that could bring you to your knees without having to ask. 

“Guys,” JJ starts. “This is Y/N, and she is our new Administrative Liaison.” 

You hold up your hand and do a shy, awkward wave. “Hi.”

JJ points to the lanky man and goes from left to right introducing everyone to you. “This is Spencer, Derek, Penelope, Emily, Rossi, and our Unit Chief, Hotch.”

Unit Chief? That means… Christ,  you haven’t even gotten to your second day yet, and you already want to fuck your boss.

Hotch stands and holds his hand out to you much like JJ did, his smile a lot more understated than hers. “Welcome to the team, Y/N.”

His hands are warm. “Thank you, sir.”

He turns to the rest of the team. “Alright, let’s get started.”

–

It takes a little while to get used to your new job, but you soon find your footing and nestle into the spot the team–your team–has created for you. The eight of you have become like a family. A big, dysfunctional family. You trust each other with your lives and your deepest, darkest secrets.

That is the only way you can explain how you ended up in this predicament.

“Hotch?” Derek asks, his face a mix of confusion and surprise. “Really, pretty girl? Hotch?”

You narrow your eyes the tiniest bit at him. “What’s wrong with Hotch?” 

“Nothing’s wrong with Hotch, sweets,” Penelope amends. “We just… weren’t expecting him to be your answer.”

“Yeah. We thought you would go for someone a little closer to your age.” Derek points at Spencer. “Like Pretty Boy.”

You shake your head. “I have a type, and as much as I adore Spencer, he is not it.”

“And Hotch is your type?” 

You nod. “He’s a DILF. I like DILFs.”

Emily nearly spits the water she’d just taken a sip of out of her nose. “Oh, my God. Never say that again.”

“Never once in my days of working here did I ever think that I would hear Hotch and DILF in the same sentence,” JJ says. 

“Neither did I,” says a voice from behind you. Fuck my life. You turn and come face to face with none other than your boss and the aforementioned DILF. 

“Hotch,” you breathe.

He points over his shoulder at his office door. “My office.”

Hanging your head, you nod. “Yes, sir.”

The two of you head up to his office, and once the door is locked and the blinds are closed, he turns to face you. “Y/N, we talked about this,” Hotch says, sighing.

You shrug like you see no problem with the situation. “What was I supposed to say? You are a DILF, Aaron.” 

His stony facade drops and a shy smile pulls at his lips. “I just didn’t expect you to say that, especially in front of the team.”

You bring your arms up and wrap them loosely around your boyfriend’s neck. “Blame Derek. He asked.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you tell him. “You know, for a group of highly-skilled profilers, they still haven’t figured out we’re together yet.”

“I’m sure they will,” he tells you before moving his lips to your neck. “Especially after tonight.”

The first time it happens is an accident.

You’d been staying late–or, later than you usually do to finish paperwork that you’d been putting off so that you didn’t have to bring it home with you. You thought that even Aaron had left by now to be with Jack. 

“Y/N, do you know where the files from the recent Boise case are?” Your boss’s voice sounds a few feet to your left. He’s overloading himself again.

“Uh, yeah. They’re right here.” You point to the stack to the left of you. He turns toward the sound of your voice, and his eyes find the stack of files he’s looking for.

“Okay, great.” He walks to your desk and reaches his hand out to take them under his arm. You pick up the stack to hand them over to him, and his fingers graze the back of your hand. The skin where he’s touching you tingles with the tiniest zaps of electricity. You both just stand there for a moment, not saying a word to each other, until Aaron clears his throat, thanks you for the files, and goes back to his office.

And once you’re left alone with your thoughts again, you file that interaction away for later.

–

The second time it happens is not an accident. Not in the slightest.

It was another slow morning for the Bureau, so you were using that time to catch up on your case reports. With the file you need in your hand, you make your way back to your desk. That’s when you spot Aaron and Derek deep in conversation at the latter’s desk. The desk that happens to be directly behind yours.

Time to test my theory, you think to yourself.

Passing by Aaron on the way to your desk, your hand comes up to the middle of his back as you go by. “Sorry, boys,” you tell them as you squeeze past them. “Don’t mind me.” 

Derek gives you an easy smile. “You’re fine, pretty girl.”

Aaron, for the first time in the many years that you’ve known him, is speechless. He says nothing to you as you pass by him and Derek. Turning to sneak a glance over your shoulder at him, you could've sworn that his ears were pink. 

–

“You’re doing it on purpose,” is the first thing Aaron says to you when he sees you later that afternoon as you take your lunch bag out of the break room fridge.

You throw a glance at him over your shoulder. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Touching me,” he clarifies. “You’re touching me on purpose.” There’s something in his voice, but you don’t know what to call it. Not yet, anyway.

You set your lunch bag on the table in front of you and feign a sheepish smile. “I suppose I’ve been caught.”

He tilts his head in bewilderment. “Why?”